


Weeds

by Laurawrzz



Series: Weeds [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Doctor Whump, Drama, Gen, Heart of the TARDIS, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Poison, Series, Two Shot, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 23:18:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3227240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurawrzz/pseuds/Laurawrzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A destructive weed has gotten inside the TARDIS, and poisoned Rose. With five hours on the clock an injured Doctor must find the poison sac to get the cure, but to get it he must venture into the very heart of his own beloved ship where the weed is damaging her very core...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> This was basically my answer to that series 7 episode where they went inside the TARDIS - I felt it could have been so much better, weirder and crazy.

Sundays were the day nothing happened, or so the Doctor said. It was the day that he and Rose just lounged around on the TARDIS all day, wasting time and doing their own thing. It had a been a quiet Sunday morning in the TARDIS. Rose had woken up at 10am, had a shower, got dressed, did her make up and went straight into the kitchen. There she had found the Doctor had already cooked her breakfast with a cup of tea primed and ready to go – one sugar and a dash of milk, just how she liked it.

Then they had gone their separate ways to do their own things, as per usual. Rose had elected to go and watch a film whilst the Doctor went straight to the library to read an encyclopedia on the malformation of atomic structures – or something like that, she presumed.

She was halfway through the second Bridget Jones' Diary when the entire TARDIS suddenly juddered, just a little. She looked up immediately, frowning.

Silent seconds ticked by.

She gave a mental shrug, and turned her attention back to the film just in time for the TARDIS to massively jolt, nearly sending her into the table and her popcorn about three foot in the air. Then the lights blacked out, the TV died and Rose Tyler was cast into complete darkness.

She managed to right herself, standing up precariously and holding onto the sofa.

“... Doctor?” she yelled.

Within moments the emergency lights came up, bathing the room in a dull red glow.

 _“Rose? Come to the console room,”_ the Doctor's voice came from somewhere above.

She was up and out the door in a flash, down the corridor and into the console room where the Doctor was busy using a fire extinguisher on a small fire licking up through one of the floor grates.

“What happened!?” Rose yelled over the sound of a loud, ominous-sounding bell ringing out.

“It's under control!” the Doctor assured her.

Seconds later the very thing he was extinguishing exploded. Rose Tyler only just managed to hold onto the console as the TARDIS rather abruptly, surprisingly and rudely did a complete flip – leaving her and the Doctor like guinea pigs stranded in a hurricane.

The Doctor dived to her immediately, getting an arm around her to hold her in place against him as they both hung on for their lives, screaming. Once the TARDIS righted herself she threw them the other way, before badly shaking as though clutched by a energetic baby with a rattle. She then turned upside-down, back the right way, until finally she had suddenly stopped, powered down and plunged them into utter darkness.

Then, there was silence.

“Well, that shouldn't have happened,” the Doctor muttered, pulling away from her. “You all right?”

“Yeah. What was that?” she asked, keeping a hand on his arm as she couldn't see a thing in the abject blackness.

“No idea,” he confessed.

“Were you messin' around under the console again?”

“No...” he replied, and even without seeing his face she knew he was lying, and he knew that she knew he was lying, so just cleared his throat awkwardly. “Err, no, it's nothing to do with that. If I could fire the auxiliaries then I could scan...”

The emergency lights flashed up again, and within nanoseconds he was bouncing around the console to the monitor.

“Oh, my _beautiful_ ship, well done!” he praised the TARDIS, patting the central column enthusiastically. “Now what's wrong, eh? Lemme know.”

Rose rolled her eyes a little and sat back against the console, folding her arms as the Doctor continued to stroke and mutter to his beloved time machine.

“Ah!” he suddenly yelled, hitting the monitor before he suddenly sagged, hand digging into his face as he stared at the results... “Oh,” he finished flatly.

“What?” Rose asked, moving to look but the monitor was filled with utter gibberish to her eyes.

“Something's inside the TARDIS.”

“What? What's inside?”

He straightened up to look at her. “Weeds.”

“... Weeds in the Tardis?” she repeated, frowning a little.

“Yeah,” he said, scratching behind his left ear and pulling a face. “Probably grown right into the intricate parts of the TARDIS. Messing with her systems.”

“So we go and zap it, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So where is it?”

“A little into the depths,” he answered. “Thankfully it's not very far in, or we'd probably be splattered across time and space by now. Though without the Tardis to speed us along it's going to be a bit of a walk.”

“How long?”

“Probably about nine hours.”

Rose stared at him for a while, just trying to imagine that kind of walk. “The Tardis is _really_ big, ain't it?”

“Yep,” he replied, popping the p. “Used to be about three times the size, actually. But don't worry, I'll set us up a transmat so we don't have to do the walk back.”

She nodded. “Right, better get started then,” she said, grabbing his hand. “So where d'you keep the weed killer?”

* * *

Eight hours and forty-seven minutes had taken them from the console room to the innermost depths of the complex time machine. The further they went down, the more organic the ship became – turning from a world of metal into a humongous, complex plant. The paths were made of reeds and branches, twisted together like leafy rope. The branches themselves seemed to be moving – pulsating – with every rhythmic, steady thrum beneath Rose's feet.

“Is that like a heartbeat?” Rose wondered.

“Yeah,” the Doctor replied, stopping at a turning and digging into his pocket. “The first Heart of the Tardis is about 200 hundred miles below our feet. Oh, if you started to get a little fuzzy-headed let me know.”

She quickly checked herself, waving a hand in front of her eyes. Nope, all clear. “I'm fine. Why?”

“The closer you get to the Heart the more distorted things tend to become,” he informed her, blinking hard and rubbing his eyes before placing a small blue device on the wall. “Like humans in high altitude.”

“For you?” she wondered.

“I'm time sensitive, it comes with the genetics,” the Doctor replied, shaking his head and widening his eyes to refocus. It didn't do much to help.

“Well don't go faintin' on me, yeah? Don't think I can carry you back for nine hours,” she said seriously.

“I'll try not to,” he said, and brought out his sonic. He buzzed around for a moment, and finally rested the point at a nearby narrow opening leading into utter darkness. “It's in there. Follow me.”

The Doctor went first, weed killer in hand with Rose a step behind. They advanced together down the path, sticking out branches jabbing Rose more times than she cared to count. There were plenty of vines poking out of the ground around her legs that nearly tripped her up – but the most freaky thing was the way the floor seemed to react to her footsteps, as though ready to rise up and drag her screaming helpless body through the floor at any second...

Just to be safe, she reached forward and grabbed a fistful of the Doctor's jacket.

The tunnel seemed to be getting damper, narrower and blacker with every step. Soon she couldn't even see the Doctor despite the fact she was close enough to feel his body warmth.

After what seemed like forever, the tunnel suddenly seemed to open out and she emerged next to the Doctor, still holding on to him. He took her hand, squeezed it, and she heard him step forward out of her grip. There was a little noise of the Doctor rifling through his pockets, then a click, and a single stream of light shone out...

* * *

Before either of them had any time to process what was in the room suddenly something shot out and grabbed the Doctor tightly around his right leg. Rose screamed behind him as whatever it was yanked and slammed him into the ground, sending the torch flying behind him as it started dragging him across the floor...

“Doctor!” Rose shouted, making forward.

He flipped onto his front, waving a hand in desperation. “Get out!” he yelled, slowly being dragged backwards. He tried to grip the roots on the floor, or a wall, or _anything_ that could help, but the more he struggled the more it tightened and more intense the pain; so much so it felt like his leg would snap in half.

More things wrapped around him, enclosing him in. He managed to get an arm into his jacket and pull out the sonic, rolling it desperately in Rose's direction.

“You need to-” he began, but got cut off by something wrapping around his head and mouth.

* * *

“Need to what!?” Rose yelled. “Doctor!?”

He couldn't talk any more. Rose was watching the Little Shop of Horrors unfold right in front of her eyes in the single beam of torchlight, horrified as some kind of strange purple alien plant cocooned the Doctor in a mess of vines, consuming him. She had the sonic, so she tried switching it on and waving it around but it did nothing...

_Snap!_

The Doctor yelped in pain beneath the vines. A bone had just broken.

Rose was panicking, but she had to calm down, take a breath, think rationally...

Then a thought hit her – a blinder right between the eyes. She dived for the torch and clicked it off.

Instantly all the sound and movement stopped. She could hear the Doctor whining quietly, so she threw the torch aside and dropped to the floor, crawling forward and reaching out to try and find him.

“Doctor,” she whispered, barely audible. “Where are you?”

“Mmm,” he whimpered, muted by the plant.

She found his hand, and got a grip under his arms as she tried to gently pull him out of the weeds – but he was held tightly. She ran her hands blindly to his face, feeling the cold, slimy weeds beneath her palms. She dared to try and peel them off, but they were stuck fast. She considered the sonic in her hand, and decided her best shot, whatever the consequence, was turning it on.

She pressed the tip of the sonic to a vine against his face, and pressed the button.

In a shriek of sonic blue, the weed immediately loosened and recoiled back, but another weed came out to meet the sonic, stabbing her hand and causing her to fumble and drop it. Then instant the sonic turned off the weed shrank back again.

She fumbled blindly for the sonic for a moment, but realised her efforts would be fruitless very quickly. So she forgot the sonic and grabbed the Doctor again, running her hands up to his face.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered.

“I know,” he whined.

She wrapped her arms around his chest, and _pulled._

The Doctor let out a heart-shattering _scream_ of pain, but he was slowly coming away. The weeds were lashing out at the sound, trying desperately to find the source of the noise. She panicked some more, coiling an arm around him and grabbing his mouth, trying _desperately_ to stop him screaming...

Suddenly the Doctor came away with a ping, causing her to collapse backwards with him still in her arms as he coughed and choked. Without a moment's hesitation, she got up and began to back up, _somehow_ managing to find the entrance they had come through and twisting the Doctor sidewards so he could pass through.

Then there was a click as the torch came on again, hit by one of the vines.

The weed reacted violently; its vines launching out and grabbing both her and the Doctor again. She yelled in pure frustration, pulling the Doctor against the weeds with just as much force as they were giving her. The Doctor was screaming again just inches away from her ears, and it seemed to give her some sort of renewed strength. She increased her pull, the yelling raising in pitch and volume until they came away from the weeds again and she was starting back down the tunnel at double-quick speed, the branches cutting her face and arms and the vines making her trip up about every five feet. But the Doctor was still yelling, and she was desperate to save his life.

Finally they emerged out the other side into the light, Rose dragging him a few more metres until a final scream of pain and jolt let Rose know that he wasn't going any further.

There was a single vine wrapped around the Doctor's leg, strange purple tendrils stained with pure red blood.

She dived to the vine immediately, her heart in her mouth at the Doctor still writhing below her. “Die!” she yelped, stamping on the weed. It refused to let go of the Doctor, so much so it endured the stamping until the point it split. One half pulled back into the room, and the other half remained wrapped firmly around the Doctor's leg.

Then there was silence... Asides from the Doctor whining constantly in pain. She dropped to him immediately, staring at his leg and foot wrapped in vines.

“Help,” the Doctor whimpered, his eyes filling up with tears. Rose had never seen him so helpless, and it terrified her. She made to unwrap the vine from his leg but a throaty yell made her stop dead.

“No,” the Doctor gasped. “Use the transmat. Medbay.”

“Okay,” she said quickly, wrapping her aching arms around him again to pull him back to the split in the corridor where he had placed the blue device. She didn't know exactly what to do, but held him close and hedged her bets on pressing the blue bulge in the centre of the device. They disappeared in a whoosh of light.

* * *

The weed had been holding most of the Doctor's leg together, and now Rose was pulling it away his leg was slowly falling apart before her very eyes. The weed had absolutely crushed his lower leg, the skin torn and blood everywhere in a massive swelling of red and black, and even his foot was pointing the wrong way – clearly badly dislocated. His knee was clearly the wrong shape too.

“God, I'm gonna throw up...” Rose muttered, and dived for the nearest bowl-shaped object, which happened to be a bedpan.

“Painkiller,” the Doctor gasped, ignoring her vomiting and pointing vaguely to his left. “Needle gun. Green liquid. Neck.”

Still holding the bedpan to her mouth, she retrieved what he'd asked and pressed it to his neck.

“Left a bit... up... fire,” he croaked, and she did. The gun clicked, hissed, and the green liquid disappeared. She recommenced her throwing up.

He just laid still for a few moments, eyes closed as he tried to draw in slow, measured breaths until the pain subsided to a manageable level. He then dared to look at his leg, before wincing and covering it up.

“Rose,” he breathed. “Can you get me the hand-held scanner?”

“'Kay,” she murmured, retrieving it from the other side of the room and handing it over. He scanned his leg now hidden beneath the covers, and winced at the results.

“Fracture-dislocation of the first, third and fourth toes, fracture of the proximal phalanx, and the proximal interphalangeal joint...” he read out loud. “Ankle dislocation with a lateral malleolus fracture; leg has several fracture types... comminuted, open compounded, malunion and union, plus my kneecap is out of place, and I'm not even going to _start_ on the tendons...”

Rose threw up again.

“Sorry,” he muttered, gazing at her pale face.

“S'ok,” she breathed, sitting down on the bed next to his, keeping the bedpan close. “What d'you need me to do?”

“I'll do it,” the Doctor answered seriously. “Just get me some towels, two bags of my blood, needle and thread, osteo-regenerator, and a whole ton of wet wipes. And if you're doing tea...” A wave of pain hit him and he had to breath out the last of his sentence, “... that would be nice.”

She offered him a weak smile. “Hold on.”

She left the bedpan on the bed, got up, crossed the medbay and abruptly collapsed, her body flopping to the floor like a ragdoll as her head hit the floor with an uncontrolled thud, bouncing off.

“Rose? Rose!” the Doctor yelled, his eyes widening in alarm at her unconscious form. He panicked, struggling to get off of the bed quick enough. His crushed leg erupted with pain at the movement, so he tried his best to avoid having to move it but it was an inevitability. So he gritted his teeth through the pain, slipping off of the bed and hopping to Rose.

He dropped to sit down next to her, his leg stuck out across the floor, smearing blood all over it. He tried to check her pulse and her eyes, but he barely had a chance before she started shaking uncontrollably...

“No, no, no, no!” he yelled, pillowing her head with his hand. A million thoughts rushed through his head of ways to stop this, but every medicine he had was right across the other side of the infirmary...

He had to get there. With a primal yell he pushed himself up and hopped to the cabinet right across the infirmary. It took a good twenty seconds, all of which was filled by the sound of Rose still in the grip of a seizure. It took a further ten seconds to find the appropriate medicine, and another twenty seconds to hop back again, grabbing the oxygen pack on the way.

She was still convulsing, so he snapped the needle gun into place and shot it straight into her neck. As the movements became slower, the Doctor fumbled to put an oxygen mask on her face, keeping two fingers firmly on her pulse.

She finally relaxed, falling completely limp. Her pulse levelled out and finally he relaxed and checked her over for what could have caused it. He saw it almost immediately – her hand was swollen, a patch of skin turned black.

“Why didn't you _tell_ me!?” he moaned, examining the hand. He didn't need a scan to tell him what this was. She'd been stung by the weed – poisoned.  For a human this was unbelievably bad. It was terminal. He did a quick calculation in his head – for a human of her size, her build, her immune system...

He had five hours to get the cure.


	2. Part Two

Rose woke up ten minutes later, groggy with her arm pulsating with pain. She eased open her eyes, only to find herself on a bed in the infirmary and she had no idea why. She twisted her head, blinking rapidly to try and focus on the Doctor, who was sitting on the adjoining bed with his leg wrapped in blood-stained bandages, putting medical equipment into a backpack.

“Doctor?” she murmured, but her voice sounded so distant.

He looked up, his face impassive. He nodded at her and sealed the backpack.

“It's okay, I'm sorting this,” he said, hauling the backpack on with a wince. “We need to get you an antidote.”

“What....?” she asked, confused.

“It poisoned you, only way I can get an antidote is to get a sample of the poison so I can reverse it in the labs.”

“But...”

“You're coming with me, I can't leave you alone here in case you have another seizure,” he stated, pulling her to sit up. “Can you walk?”

“I had a seizure?” she asked vaguely, not quite understanding what that meant but she knew it was bad.

He nodded. “Can you walk?” he asked again.

She used his shoulder to get to her feet. Her head swam dangerously, and would have fallen over again if it wasn't for the Doctor holding her upright, gazing into her eyes sincerely.

“Okay?” he asked after a moment.

“Yeah,” she replied, but didn't let go of him. She felt like she was going to throw up if the world didn't stop spinning.

“Head-spin?” he wondered.

“Yeah...”

“Hold on,” he pulled a packet of pills and a bottle of water from the side-pockets of his backpack, popping out one pill and giving it to her along with the bottle. She took it, struggling to co-ordinate a grip.

“Should sort out your endolymph,” he explained, guiding her hands to do the job. Once the pill was down he took the bottle back and checked her eyes. “Slight concussion, can't worry about that,” he said, making to move.

“What happened?” she asked suddenly, which made him stop.

“You collapsed suddenly, hit your head on the floor – really need a softer surface in here – and started having a seizure, the poison caused the collapse and the seizure but concussion from the whack. Not serious, just tell me if you get any weakness, confusion, sight disturbances, or if you can't understand me,” he explained at a million miles per hour.

Rose stared at him, unable to comprehend the speed he was talking, despite the fact the world was quickly readjusting itself after the Doctor's magic pill. “I can't understand you.”

The Doctor was about to launch into emergency Doctor mode, when he realised that maybe he'd spoken slightly too fast. “I, err... sorry. Just tell me off you feel a bit off, okay?”

“Okay,” she replied, swallowing slightly. The Doctor wouldn't act like this if it wasn't serious. “This poison... is it... Am I dyin'?”

The Doctor gazed at her – the expression she now found so familiar. This was the look that always came before those immortal words...

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” he whispered, pulling her into a hug. “We've got five hours until the poison completely overrides your system.” He pulled back, still holding onto her arms. “But I'm not letting you die, okay? Not ever, especially not like this. I'm going to save you, Rose Tyler, even if it kills me. I promise.”

For a moment she stared at him. After two years of being with him, watching him save the world, watching him save lives, including hers on many occasions – she had no problem believing him. He _would_ save her. Because he was the Doctor, and that was what the Doctor did.

“Please smile at me,” she suddenly said.

He spread a wide smile in return, every millimetre of it genuine. She laughed in return, and hugged him again. He wrapped his arms right around her, holding her tightly to him, protectively. He didn't let go for quite a while, but she didn't mind. Her head was pressed to his chest and she could hear the double hearts-beat going strong within. She could even hear the inner workings if she listened hard enough – the rushes of blood; the lungs expanding and contracting in sync with his chest rising and falling with her head moving with it. His skin was warm through his shirt, and for some reason he smelt like honey.

He pulled away, still smiling. “All right?”

“Needed that,” she admitted, smiling.

“Me too,” he agreed.

Her eyes dropped to his leg. The bandages were absolutely covered in blood. There was no point in even telling him to sit down and sort himself out she knew. So she just looked back up at him, where his eyes followed her like a hawk.

“Don't be scared,” was all he said.

“I'm not,” she replied, completely honestly.

He nodded at that, picked up a crutch from the bed and supported himself.

“Allons-y.”

* * *

They went straight to the transmat, the Doctor holding onto her arm every step of the way with his free hand, the other deep inside the crutch to propel himself along. They reached the strange little blue device, and the Doctor activated it.

They disappeared in the usual fizz and flash, Rose closing her eyes for the move until she felt her feet on solid ground once more. She opened her eyes and found herself in the familiar dark, organic corridor, her hand still clinging to the Doctor. She looked sideward at him, but he was frowning.

“Something's changed,” he muttered, as just as he spoke the words the TARDIS suddenly made a sound akin to a loud belly burp, and the entire corridor convulsed violently. The two were taken off of their feet, falling back onto the roots that formed the floor.

“You okay?” the Doctor said quickly to Rose.

She nodded. “What was that?”

“I think the weed has grown further,” the Doctor murmured, struggling upright and hopping to get himself balance on one leg before helping up his companion. “That looked and sounded like indigestion.”

“Ergh,” Rose muttered.

“It must be in the TARDIS belly,” the Doctor concluded, running a hand through his hair.

“That's bad, yeah?” Rose supposed, grimacing.

He nodded. “This may take longer than I thought. Allons-y.”

They began to walk again, back in the direction the plant had been before. But even as they reached the corridor, the gravity of the situation very quickly became apparent as it was absolutely _covered_ in vines.

“Yep,” the Doctor whispered, as if it confirmed something. He turned back, and led Rose away to the split in the corridor.

“We've gotta go nearer the Heart,” Rose said to him, half as a question, half as a realisation.

He didn't even need to answer that. “I need the poison sac from a flower, but there's no chance we can get through all those vines to find the flower...”

“So we find another flower,” Rose said positively.

“Yeah,” he replied, though wasn't nearly half as positive as her.

* * *

He had perfectly good reason. They went deeper, further and further down into more complex corridors, forming honeycomb mazes that were so confusing that even _he_ was on the edge of getting almost completely lost.

But he couldn't get lost. As they advanced, the Heart of the TARDIS was getting louder, the corridors pulsing stronger. He'd never been this far down before. He had always been told, even as a junior Time Lord, nobody except a specially selected group of experienced, highly-trained Arpexia House mechanics were allowed within 100 miles of the Heart of a TARDIS.

Many stories had come with what happened to untrained Gallifreyans that went near the Heart. They spoke of tales of insanity; of regenerations going awry; of curses and malformations and hallucinations of unspeakable acts. They spoke of blessings too; of Shobogans granted places in the Time Academy after a strange burst of knowledge; of wishes come true; of the dead being brought back to life.

He had always wondered what would really happen... and now he was really hoping he wasn't about to find out.

He place transmat devices every ten minutes as they progressed, making sure they had a way out should they get into trouble. Rose seemed to be weakening with every step, and his own head was progressively getting lighter and lighter, until it became so light that he thought it might float away.

“I know you've always said the TARDIS is a living thing,” Rose muttered, leaning on him as they advanced. “But if she's got a belly does that mean we're actually living in her body?”

“Yeah, sort of,” the Doctor replied, rubbing his eyes. “We're in her internal system, now. It's not like you would think of a body – arms, legs, heart, brain, that sort of stuff – but there are similarities. All the mechanics, that's just the outer shell. The mechanics just make it usable – compatible – for us to harness her energy, which comes from the Heart.”

“I thought the Heart was in the console?”

“That's the second Heart.”

“She has two hearts,” she said, smiling slightly.

He grinned. “Yeah. But hopefully we're not going down there. Like I said, if the weed was anywhere down there we'd be scattered across time and space by now.”

“I think it's trying to get there though,” Rose muttered.

He nodded in agreement. “Oh, my head,” he whined, stopping her for a moment to press a palm to his forehead.

“What?” she asked, looking at him with concern.

He suddenly snapped to attention, frowning. “Did you hear that?”

“What?” Rose asked again, confused.

“Someone called my name.”

“No...” Rose said, looking around before looking back at him. “Maybe we should try for a flower higher up, yeah?”

“No, the vines are too defensive,” he said a little vacantly, far too absorbed in looking around the corridor. “We need to find a flower that's unguarded... There. Did you hear that?”

“No...?”

“It's my name. My real name. Someone's saying my real name.”

She bit her lip. “I can't hear anything.”

He frowned for a moment, hit his head again and then started off once more. “Probably just interference. Come on.”

* * *

The further they went, the more vines seemed to be crawling up the walls – but there was absolutely no sign of a flower.

“Where are they?” Rose muttered, absently scratching at the mark on her arm. The Doctor looked disapprovingly at her, pulling her hand away.

“Don't scratch,” he said tiredly.

“Sorry,” she responded, pulling her hand away and trying to concentrate on not doing it again.

“I don't know,” he admitted quietly, blinking repeatedly. “There should be loads...”

“How long left?”

“About four hours,” he replied. She didn't answer that, so he took her arm and pulled to a stop. “You're going to be fine. I promise.”

“I know,” Rose told him, but she wasn't smiling. “I'm not worried 'bout me. How's your head?”

He couldn't help but give a small smile at that. “I'm okay,” he said. “Worry about yourself for once, okay?”

She gazed at him for a moment, her brown eyes flickering across his face... before a small smile crept in. “Okay,” she responded. “Better hurry up then, I'm dyin' y'know,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him along as he laughed.

They continued down another complex tunnel, and eventually emerged into a small, well-lit room. It was roughly four feet by four feet and made completely of metal – the side of the room had a panel with eleven buttons labelled in the Doctor's language.

“Is this a lift?” Rose asked seriously.

The Doctor nodded, his hand trying to shield his eyes. He went to the panel, and hit one of the buttons. The lift doors smoothly came together, and they began to go down...

Almost immediately the Doctor groaned through gritted teeth, stooping to lean on a wall as the lift began to accelerate downwards...

“Doctor?” Rose asked, alarmed.

“M'fine,” he gruffed out, closing his eyes and pressing his cheek into the wall. “M'fine,” he said again, pushing himself back up again. He started to stagger like a drunk on a moving bus, his hand on his head before he sank to the floor, moaning badly...

“Stop it...” he groaned out from the floor on all fours, badly able to get his mouth around the syllables. “Stop saying my name...”

“Don't listen,” Rose said quickly, dropping to him. “It's just interference.”

“I c-can't go down...”

“You can,” she urged, cupping his cheek.

“I can't c-carry on,” he suddenly groaned, curling up and burying his head in his hands. “It hurts...”

“What hurts?” Rose asked quickly.

“The light,” the Doctor moaned, doubled over and holding his head. “My head...”

“Stay still,” Rose said quickly, looking around for something that could help. She needed to block out the light for him, something black to wrap around his head, something like...

Something a bit like her tights.

She barely gave a second thought to it, quickly getting them off from under her skirt and folding the legs together to make a blindfold.

“Okay,” Rose said, moving back to him. “Take your hands away.”

“No,” the Doctor whined.

“Trust me,” Rose said gently.

Slowly but surely, he drew his hands away. Rose quickly wrapped her tights around his eyes as many layers deep as she could, and tied them off at the back.

“Better?” she asked.

The Doctor slowly lowered his hands, and looked up. “Thanks,” he muttered, and struggled blindly to his feet.

She held his arm tightly. “Did you bring painkillers?”

He nodded. “In the rucksack.”

She helped him pull it off of his back and dropped to the floor, rummaging through. “What do they look like?”

“Purple capsules in a white sealed packet. Try the front pocket.”

“Okay,” she acknowledged, digging around until she found them and a bottle of water. “Hold out your hands,” she continued, popping out a pill for him.

He did, and she gently and carefully placed each object into his hands. After a bit of fumbling he managed to get the pill into his mouth, and took a swig of water. When he was done, she took the bottle back and put it away into the rucksack just as the lift stopped.

“Thank you,” he said, shrugging the rucksack back on with her help.

“Just keep holdin' onto me,” she said, taking his hand and squeezing it. “You look after me and I'll look after you, yeah?”

He nodded.

“Let's find a flower and get outta here then,” she said, and pulled him out of the lift.

“Hold on,” he said quickly, stopping her just outside the lift. “Placing a transmat.”

He dug one out of his pocket and felt for the wall, placing it carefully on a protruding root.

She took his hand again, and together they advanced down the corridor once more – away from the bright lights of the lift and into the darkness beyond.

* * *

Rose could feel her energy was dipping to extremely low levels. Her chest seemed to tightening – every breath she took seemingly giving her lungs less and less air. But she was trying to ignore that. That and her arm, which was itching like crazy.

So she concentrated on finding a flower. They had to get the poison sac and leave. The Doctor was relying on her, clinging onto her arm like she'd never felt him do before – like a child clinging to his mother in a busy, unfamiliar place. But of course he would. He was completely blinded, and judging by his silence, this was a fairly new experience for him. He was stumbling and occasionally tripping over his own feet, her being the only thing stopping him from walking into walls. For once, she was looking after _him._ And she couldn't help but wonder that maybe it was a case of the stupid leading the blind... as she had _no_ idea where she was going.

It took a further ten minutes of descending until she saw it in the corner of a corridor; something white in the blackness – something soft, sectioned. It looked extremely innocent, but most importantly, it looked unprotected.

She stopped immediately, bringing the Doctor to a careful stop.

“I think it's a flower,” she breathed out, surprised to find herself struggling to catch her breath as she scratched absently at her arm.

“Stop scratching,” the Doctor ordered in a whisper, and she quickly stopped. “What does it look like?”

“It's white, with petals. Looks just like a flower,” she replied quietly.

“That's it,” the Doctor confirmed.

“What does the sac look like?”

“It's green and bulbous and a bit veiny. It'll be inside the flower.”

“Okay,” she said, nodding to herself. “I'll get it.”

“You can't,” the Doctor replied immediately, tightening his hand on her arm.

“You wanna try?” she asked the blind man seriously.

“If it poisons you again Rose...”

“It won't,” Rose assured him. She looked into the place his eyes should have been. They should have been narrowed and looking at her through tiny slits in the expression she had dubbed his, 'seriously, no.' face. His deep brown eyes would gaze directly into hers and narrow to those slits; the corners of his mouth would turn down; crinkles would appear on his forehead and his eyebrows would knot together... All coming together to form the face of a Doctor who really wasn't happy with what the person in front of him was doing.

“Now let go and stay back. I think I know how this works,” she continued.

For a moment he continued to hold onto her arm, the grip seemingly unrelenting.

“There's knife in the bag,” he told her, still holding onto her arm as she located it within and pulled it out.

“Got it,” she whispered.

A few, tense seconds passed, before he finally let his hand slip slowly to his side, resigning to the situation.

“... Be careful,” was all he said.

“I will,” she assured him and turned towards the flower.

And suddenly she felt very alone.

She took a step, as silent as she could, towards the seemingly docile plant. Then she dared to take another.

It wasn't reacting.

Gaining some confidence, she took a quicker step. And another.

Suddenly the flower flinched, turning as if looking in her direction.

She held her breath, waiting to see if the flower would move again. What felt like a millennia came and went, before it did, finally, turn back to the way it had been facing before.

She stepped forward again, within a metre of the flower, now. Another step... another...

And slammed the knife right into the centre of it.

The flower violently trembled, shivering and collapsing in on itself to the point of the knife. Rose quickly reached inside, foraging for anything inside that resembled what the Doctor had said. After a few tense seconds she grasped something squelchy and large, and pulled out exactly what he had described.

Suddenly the vines ripped themselves off of the walls, and went straight for her. She yelped in alarm and ducked, only just about managing to avoid its piercing end. She scrambled back upright and began to run back to the Doctor, grabbing his hand and yanking him back in the other direction as she passed through.

Then they began to run, back through the twisting corridors, but somehow the entire place had come alive. Vines were shooting out, trying desperately to stop them but somehow, _somehow_ they managed to get past.

They kept running, Rose desperately trying to remember what way they'd came. But as more vines shot out of the walls and tore up out of the floor the Doctor's hand suddenly slipped from her grasp, and she halted and turned back just in time to get the body of a vine smack her right around the face. The sac flew out of her hand as the force threw her into the wall, where instead of slipping to the floor in a daze she remained pinned as the roots of the weed in the wall immediately set upon her, wrapping around her like a second skin...

“Doctor!” she screamed, struggling desperately...

* * *

“Rose!” the Doctor yelled back, struggling to his feet where he'd tripped over a root. “Talk to me!”

“Here!” she cried desperately. “It's got me! I'm on the wall!”

He went straight to the source of her voice, his hands scrambling to try and find her. He managed to get his hand on warm skin and the feeling of hair...

“You got me!” she cried, inches away.

He moved his hands again to the nearest root, and tugged with his entire body weight. It wasn't budging.

“The knife!” Rose cried.

He reached out to her again, searching for the knife. Something sharp hit his hand, but he was seemingly numb to any pains as he grabbed the handle and reached for the root again...

“Behind you!” Rose yelled, inches from his ear. He whirled around, knife in hand, and waved the weapon wildly to try and keep it away from him and Rose. He felt a pressure on the knife and the sound of a squelch on the floor.

“You got it!” Rose shouted, and he turned back again. With a few blind slashes and the certainty that he'd probably butchered his hand in the process, warm hands grabbed his shoulders and he reached forward to grasp her, pulling with all his might.

They both collapsed backwards onto the floor in a puddle of limbs. But immediately they were back on their feet again, and running.

* * *

Running, but Rose could hardly breathe. Her chest felt like there was an elephant sitting on it, and even though she had the Doctor's hand she couldn't feel it in her grip...

She was starting to go numb.

This prompted to check her left hand, and it took about two seconds to realise...

“Doctor,” she choked out, stumbling to a stop. “Sac!”

“What?” he yelled back.

“The... sac!” she gasped through desperate breaths for air. “Dropped!!!”

She let go of his hand, and staggered back into the advancing vines.

“Rose!” she heard him yell as she dived to the floor metres away, scooping up the sac just as a vine narrowly missed her chest. She rolled to her feet, and somehow managing to find energy in her she didn't even know existed, she ran back to the Doctor and took his hand again.

But she was getting less and less oxygen, her muscles were tiring, her body was aching, and she ended up slowly staggering to the floor, unable to get her legs to move how she wanted them to.

“Doctor...” she cried in a breath.

* * *

The Doctor heard the demise, and he didn't hear her try get back up again.

“Rose!” he cried, dropping to his knees and feeling around the floor for her. “Not now! Please!”

His right hand came across her hand, reaching up to him, and he moved in to grab her around the middle. He was fully aware that what he was about to do was absolutely ridiculous, but all the same, hauled her up, and with a bit of effort managed to get her body over his shoulder.

He struggled upright and began to stagger forwards, the the knife still in his other hand.

“Right,” Rose gasped from over his shoulder.

He turned right. He couldn't see _anything,_ and the pain and lightness in his head wasn't helping either. But he had to save Rose. He couldn't let her die like this...

“Be... hind... us...”

He increased his speed, his leg screaming blue murder beneath him. But he kept going – kept half-running, half-staggering – yells escaping his own lips but he had no control over them.

“Stop!” Rose croaked, and he halted immediately. “The... transmat!”

“Where!?” he cried, turning back with the knife and waving it wildly to defend him and Rose from any attack.

* * *

“Left!” Rose cried, desperately hanging onto the Doctor's shoulder in an attempt not to fall off as he swung around beneath her, the knife back in his hand. He was absolutely _covered_ in blood – some hers, some his. He had nearly cut off his hand whilst saving her and the blood trail he was leaving with that and his leg made a macabre breadcrumb trail from the flower back to the transmat.

She forced her head up to the wall, and saw the transmat sitting there, beeping away perfectly normally. She raised an arm, and drunkenly hit the button.

* * *

The instant they transmatted the Doctor hit the floor, taking Rose with him. His hands and his leg felt like they were on fire, and he couldn't help a few screams of agony tearing from his lips immediately afterwards.

“Doctor,” Rose sobbed from next to him, and suddenly he was hit with a shot of adrenaline. He got up, staggered to her and reached out his hands to try and feel her.

A hand took his arm. “I... can't... breathe...” she gasped.

“I know, I know,” the Doctor almost whined. “I'm saving you. But I need your help. I can't see what I'm doing. You have to talk me through it, Rose, please.”

“I... will...”

He nodded and slid his elbows under her armpits to drag her along the floor. “Where's the laboratory?”

There was a brief pause.

“Rose!” he cried urgently

“Second... door... left...” she choked out.

He began to drag her backwards along the grating. It was funny how it happened – he was blind, and now it was as though his hearing had become extremely acute. He could here the individual bounces of Rose's shoes on the grating, the rustling of her clothes as she was dragged along. And, he was pretty convinced, that if he listened _very_ hard, he could hear her lungs, wheezing with every tiny breath she drew...

This fuelled him onwards, and he continued until Rose gasped a stop and he turned backwards into the laboratory.

“Where's the table!?” he cried, prising the sac out of Rose's hand.

“Metre... to... right...”

He took a bold step right, and reached out blindly for what he needed. There was a large beaker-shaped object in the middle, so he tipped it upright to check if anything was in it before setting it back on the table and bringing up the sac.

Knife still in his hand, he stabbed into it, and squeezed out a foul-smelling poison like the juice out of an orange. He could hear it fizzing and reacting with the beaker... He had to be quick.

“There should be a red liquid in a vial in a rack!” he said urgently, reaching out his hand to try and feel for what he had described.

“Left,” Rose almost squeaked, and he could hear her panting desperately for air. “Left... left... that... one.”

“This one?”

“Yeah...”

He popped the topped of the vial, felt for the beaker and tipped it all in. There was a loud hiss and several spits.

“I need the blue one now... Rose? Where is it? ROSE!?”

She wasn't answering. In desperation he reached forward to the rack and pulled it out, popping the stop in the process. He took a swig and swallowed with no hesitation.

Immediately a foul taste burst into his mouth – a strange combination tasting of putrid mud, mixed with bad eggs, adolescent male sweat, rotten fish, fragrant farts, loose diarrhoea and vomit like the type a person would have if they ate all the previous things at once.

He immediately threw it back up again, coughing and whacking his chest with a fist. “Yep, that's the one,” he choked out, and felt for the beaker. He dribbled a little bit of the horrifying substance in, and stirred the contents of the beaker with the nearest long, slim, metal object.

“Rose!” he yelled, and didn't get an answer. He felt out for a syringe in the side pocket of his backpack, dropped to his knees and pulled himself along the floor until he found her limp and unresponsive body just a few feet away.

“Stay with me,” he almost begged, filling up the syringe before taking her cold arm in his left hand. He had to find a vein...

He felt the arteries along her wrist, and judged roughly four inches with his fingers. And then, praying to all of creation, he pushed the needle in.

“Rose,” he choked out, feeling as though he were about to throw up again. “If you can hear me, please do something...”

He kept pushing the needle until he was absolutely sure it had all gone – and it was anyone's guess whether it had actually gone in or not. But now his own world was beginning to warp and change – bright colours burned behind his eyelids as suddenly he knew he was going to vomit once more. He dived left on instinct and scrambled to find a bin, only just about getting there.

And this time, it was horrific.

It seemed like so long – a good few minutes at least. Pain was piercing sharply into his gut, as though he was being stabbed repeatedly with a blunt knife. The pain increased twentyfold the longer it kept coming, and it was absolutely relentless...

By the end of it he was fully convinced he'd brought up his own stomach. He collapsed to the floor, sweating profusely and trembling wildly.

The cloister bell began to ring, but he couldn't do anything about it. His eyes slipped closed as the cloister bell drilled into his ears, leaving him lying almost dead on the laboratory floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC in 'Pains'...


End file.
